The Hidden Crisis: How Facebook’s News Ban Fueled Wildfire Misinformation

When flames tore through the Central Okanagan in the summer of 2023, destroying homes and showering Kelowna with burning embers, the devastation was visible to everyone. But for Blair Visscher, a Vernon resident watching the chaos unfold from her living room, something else was deeply troubling. As she scrolled through Facebook during those terrifying days, desperately searching for reliable information about the rapidly spreading Bush Creek East wildfire, she found something unexpected: a flood of conspiracy theories, divisive rhetoric, and outright misinformation that seemed to fill every corner of the platform. The situation was particularly striking because it exposed a dangerous gap in how Canadians receive critical emergency information. The fire had been burning since July 12, and by late September, it would consume 45,600 hectares of forest and grassland. But something significant happened on August 2 that would change the information landscape forever: Meta, the parent company of Facebook and Instagram, began removing Canadian news content from its platforms entirely.

This wasn’t random corporate behavior. Meta was actively responding to the Online News Act, a Canadian federal policy designed to force tech giants to compensate news organizations for using their content. Instead of paying for the privilege of hosting Canadian journalism, Meta chose a different route: it simply removed all Canadian news from its platforms, leaving a massive vacuum where credible, verified information once lived. For people like Visscher, who was studying for her master’s degree at UBC Okanagan, this created a perfect storm of misinformation. Low-quality content, conspiracy theories, and unverified claims rushed into the void left by professional journalism, creating a dangerous information ecosystem during one of the most critical emergency periods in recent British Columbia history. The timing couldn’t have been worse, as thousands of people were making life-or-death decisions about evacuation orders based on whatever information they could piece together from social media.

Visscher’s academic research, conducted under the supervision of environmental humanities professor Greg Garrard, uncovered a troubling pattern that predated the Meta news ban. Her investigation traced the roots of this information crisis back to the COVID-19 pandemic, when trust in government institutions and scientific expertise began to erode significantly. The pandemic had created fertile ground for conspiracy theories and institutional skepticism, but very little was done to repair that damage once the immediate health crisis subsided. When wildfires began to strike with increasing frequency and intensity, that pre-existing distrust provided a foundation for even more misinformation to flourish. Visscher’s thesis examined three major wildfire events over time: Fort McMurray in 2016, White Rock Lake in 2021, and Bush Creek East in 2023. This timeline proved instructive, revealing a worrying progression in how social media users absorbed and shared information during emergencies. During the Fort McMurray fire, before the pandemic shattered institutional trust, people largely relied on official sources of information. But by the time White Rock Lake burned in 2021, the landscape had shifted dramatically.

The White Rock Lake analysis showed that roughly four percent of Facebook discussions contained conspiratorial narratives, mixed with substantial anger, distrust, and questioning of official accounts. At first glance, four percent might not seem alarming, but Visscher found that this represented a significant shift in public discourse. The problem wasn’t just the content people were posting—it was the fundamental way Facebook’s algorithm operated. Even when official information existed and was readily available, the algorithm simply wasn’t showing it to people. Users would come to Facebook expecting to find updates from fire officials, evacuation alerts, and safety information, only to discover that their feeds were dominated by sensationalized content, unverified claims, and fear-mongering posts designed to generate engagement. The result was a dangerous feedback loop: people couldn’t find official information, concluded that none existed, and then turned to increasingly unreliable sources for answers. Visscher’s interviews revealed a common sentiment: “If it’s not on Facebook, it doesn’t exist,” reflecting how deeply social media had become the primary information source for most Canadians, despite its obvious limitations.

The problem has only intensified, and Visscher remains deeply skeptical about Facebook’s willingness to address these issues. “Meta is in the business of making money,” she stated bluntly, pointing to the corporate priorities that drive algorithmic decisions. The platform is designed to maximize engagement, and nothing generates more engagement than content that provokes strong emotional responses—particularly anger, fear, and outrage. Unfortunately, these are exactly the emotions that conspiracy theories and misinformation are designed to trigger. When she analyzed the Bush Creek East discussions, Visscher found that conspiratorial content had grown to a staggering 16.6 percent of all Facebook conversations about the fire, a dramatic jump from the four percent she’d observed just two years earlier. This represents a four-fold increase in dangerous misinformation about a life-threatening emergency, occurring precisely when people needed accurate information the most. The current wildfire season has continued this troubling trend, with significant online discussion questioning how fires are being fought, how evacuation decisions are made, and even suggesting that fires might be deliberately started.

What’s particularly concerning to Visscher is that these conspiracy theories often originate from legitimate questions and genuine concerns. People want to understand how decisions are being made, why certain areas are evacuated while others aren’t, and how limited resources are being allocated during emergencies. These are fair questions that deserve thoughtful, transparent answers. But instead of finding reliable information, people encounter algorithmic echo chambers that amplify fringe theories and present speculation as fact. Visscher’s research suggests that many people aren’t starting from a place of irrationality—they’re starting from a place of genuine uncertainty and seeking answers wherever they can find them. The problem is that Facebook’s algorithm actively promotes content that keeps people engaged, regardless of whether that content is accurate, helpful, or safe. A video sharing a conspiracy theory about fire starters will generate more comments, shares, and extended viewing time than an official update from the BC Wildfire Service, precisely because it’s more controversial and provocative.

Despite her pessimism about Facebook’s willingness to change, Visscher sees encouraging signs in how some organizations are adapting to this new reality. The BC Wildfire Service, for example, has begun posting educational and engaging content that explains not just what’s happening but why and how. These videos help demystify firefighting operations and build public understanding, but they’re hampered by the algorithmic constraints of the platforms they use. Not everyone sees them, and even those who do may have the content buried beneath a cascade of more sensational posts. Visscher recommends that officials begin thinking more strategically about what type of content performs well on social media and how to make legitimate information more engaging. She notes that official messaging tends to be dry, technical, and emotionally flat—the opposite of what typically generates engagement on social media platforms. Her recommendation is to use emotionally resonant language, connect with people on a human level before presenting information, and make the content more relatable and compelling.

Journalists also have an important role to play in countering misinformation during wildfire events. Visscher observed a troubling shift after 2021, where media coverage during fires began prioritizing official updates and expert voices while devoting less time to sharing the stories of evacuees and affected community members. This misses an essential function of journalism: helping communities see themselves reflected in coverage, having their grief witnessed and acknowledged, and understanding the human impact behind the statistics and evacuation orders. She encourages reporters, where time and resources permit, to include a human-centered story from within the affected community for every official update they publish. These stories help build trust and connection, reminding readers that behind every evacuation order and fire update, there are real people whose lives are being dramatically interrupted. This human connection can also serve as an antidote to the dehumanizing nature of conspiracy theories and misinformation.

Visscher also points to the undeniable role of climate change in creating these emergencies, a connection that many social media users actively resist acknowledging. The idea that our changing climate is making wildfires more frequent and severe is deeply uncomfortable, and for some, it’s easier to believe in arsonists or government plots than to accept this uncomfortable truth. She acknowledges that people are “just trying to make sense of some really scary things happening in our communities” but emphasizes that everyone shares the same fundamental goals: keeping people safe and being prepared for fires. This shared common ground is worth remembering when facing frustrating or discouraging content online. Her advice for navigating this challenging information landscape is practical and direct: turn off Facebook for a while and check official sources instead. Municipal websites, regional district updates, and BC Wildfire Service bulletins may not be as engaging as social media feeds, but they’re substantially more reliable. In an era of increasingly frequent and severe wildfires, that reliability could make the difference between life and death.